


Vendo

by rustyHalo



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, M/M, Random shiznits, Vendo machines, in which they are in college and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:42:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustyHalo/pseuds/rustyHalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, there are those really cool and underrated vendo machines in the corner. They sell iced coffee and cola and chocolates and snacks and stuff. The best part is that they never run out (Dave says you never <i>see</i> it run out but you say never! Never!) and are cheap as… Uh, the metaphor Dave used was “cheap as hookers.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vendo

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SO FUGGING SORRY OH MY GOD. I haven't updated nor posted anything here for the past 208349249279382 weeks and I am so sorry because fuck I am so busy with senior shenanigans. I swear I have a few chapters written in my journals, plus a new multichapter fic, plus other fanfiction. Oh god I am so sorry here is a short fic to make up for the shit I have not done.

The lobby on the ground floor often remains empty. That’s because the elevator is positioned right across the front doors that lead to the main road of the campus, directing the busy students through the hall and out the doors without letting them pay attention to the apartment facilities.

Well, yeah, the lobby is often empty, except for maybe you and Dave.

See, there are those really cool and underrated vendo machines in the corner. They sell iced coffee and cola and chocolates and snacks and stuff. The best part is that they never run out (Dave says you never _see_ it run out but you say never! Never!) and are cheap as… Uh, the metaphor Dave used was “cheap as hookers.”

You smacked him with a thick Cosmopolitan on the forehead when he was done snorting.

Okay, back to the story, most of the time you’re out of the apartment anyway because, duh, college stuff, and you and Dave rarely talk to each other anymore unless there was a magic matching free time, or a holiday, or you were going to sleep and sometimes you even have to stay up to wait for him.

You have to lie to him around those times. You have to not say you miss him a whole lot because if you did, he would be more than willing to give up a class or two for you. It’s not that he’s lazy (though he kind of is when it comes to chores and fetching Rose and Jade from the airport); he’s actually really enthusiastic about his courses. Fine arts is not an easy breeze like most people think, since it gets stressing a lot, too, but Dave is like, really darned excited about it. Like a puppy with a bone. An albino puppy with a bone that is not actually white unless you meant a paint canvas.

You guess you should leave the metaphors to him.

Partly going back to the topic (again), most times he waits for you, too. Due to your buildings being in the same wing (for God knows what reasons) and having the same courtyard, he goes to yours a lot to meet you in between classes, or to take you to one. It’s really sweet and you don’t want to complain at all but you heard he’s been late for his sculpting classes more than thrice and if his professor wasn’t the super nice and pretty Professor Feliciano, he would be so dead.

The times you spend in the apartment are either the given curfew, lazy brunches, half of your free time or most of the weekends and holidays. Three-fourths of all that time is wasted inside your room, while the remaining fourth is done in the lobby.

The entire south wall (the one leading to the reception desk and elevator) is set up with the vendo stuff, because the north wall is busy with the mounted TV on it. The seniors say the remote to it has been missing for twelve years, but Dave found out that Ms. Greene, the landlady, bought the idiot box just three years ago and that the seniors have been hiding the RC in the giant flowerpot by the east wall’s glass sliding doors.

The lobby has a low coffee table made of curvy contoured glass, with a wooden slit-shelf thing under for magazines and books and scrap papers with phone numbers and “call me xoxo’s” written on them. The classy, out-of-place centerpiece is surrounded by a semicircle of seats: leather couch across the TV, a loveseat to its left (to look out the door-window) and a Lazy Boy to the right. 

Said Lazy Boy is where you prefer to sit, often when you have some serious business to do. You buy a can of ice-cold coffee, plop down on the soft seat and get down to business.

Dave sits everywhere, literally. It’s like he’s got ants in his boxers or something, moving here to there then settling down on the floor when he gets bored. It’s because he doesn’t have as much homework as you do. Business Ad and Management isn’t exactly the lightest load.

So let’s talk about how annoying Dave can get.

Lately he’s been so restless that he got to sneaking around and shitting with you. Your Prankster’s Gambit is at risk, and he’s getting sneakier by the deed.

One time, you were sitting in your spot. You frown over a particularly weird paragraph with equations when, out of the blue, a hand points to your book and says, “It’s supposed to be new yield over old yield.”

You almost chuck the book backwards and shriek. That’s Striderninja one, Egblurp zero. He smirks and tousles your hair.

Another time, you fall asleep on the couch. You open your eyes and stretch, and something wet meets your two fingers. The next thing you know, Dave’s nipping on the two fingers and you scream, disgusted.

That’s 2-0.

The last time it happened, you were watching Cartoon Network near curfew time. You reach towards the Lazy Boy’s cup holder to take your root beer, but instead you whip your head sidewards to find his head resting on your root beer on your armrest, Dave staring at you.

Stealth ninjas suck. You’d think they’re cool, but they suck so much.

Today, you’re lounging on the very same seat. You’ve got a coffee mug across you on the low glass table, your thick _Customer and Employee Psychology_ book cradled on your lap. Strider’s disappeared off to God knows where and you actually don’t care anymore because you have a test in three days. You wish a blizzard would postpone it.

Someone wearing slippers pads to the vendo machines.

“Hey, John,” the stranger greets in a yawn.

“Hi, Xander. Overslept again?” You reply, not looking up.

“Yep. Lazy December. Plus, it’s a Sunday. Don’t have classes.”

“Lucky you. Programmed ‘til dawn?”

“I did. Test on Tuesday.”

You glance at him with pity. “Oh. Mine’s on Wednesday. Good luck!”

“Thanks, man. Strider?”

“Who knows.”

“I thought you would, I mean…” He makes a scissor motion with his two fingers that you think should mean something like the index finger is you and the middle finger is Dave and you two go together or something. Inserting Dave innuendos here, though. Xander realizes what he was doing and stops and points to his ring finger.

You roll your eyes and make a shooing motion with your hand. “Bye, Xander.”

He laughs and waves goodbye, hopping into the elevator.

The lounge plunges back into silence after the ding of the lift.

It’s almost an entire hour and Dave still hasn’t appeared. He’s already slipped your mind, and instead, the space for him has been flooded with business techniques and trickery of some sort.

You’ve been rereading the same sentence fourteen times and it takes you a moment to not realize your head has drooped and then you’re a goner.

You blink your eyes open, and the lamps are on. It’s way darker in here now than it was a while ago, and that’s saying something because it’s been snowing for a week now. You feel the warmth of the fire across you.

Over the crackle of the flame, something (some _one_ ) treads the carpet, as quiet as a feather.

It’s Strider.

You don’t move at all. You keep your eyes half-opened and breathe softly as if you were still asleep. Your feel that your neck starts to hurt with its bad angle away from the seat.

His waist part covers your view. You close your eyes fully and he doesn’t notice at all.

“Wake,” he taps your knee.

You don’t budge.

“Hey,” and this time it’s your shoulder.

Still no movements from you.

He leans forward and places a hand on the armrest to support himself. His face is somewhere above your forehead, and you know because you can feel him breathing down on you.

You hear him suck in a breath the way he does right before he talks, but this time, nothing comes out because you beat him to it.

You open your eyes, reach behind him to the back of his head, pull down and kiss him.

His hand clutches the armrest and whoops, that’s actually your wrist. He struggles against you for a while but you pull down harder and he’s a dumb tall guy so he falls to his knees and you move closer to the edge of the seat.

Eventually, he gives up fighting and kisses back. You stop for a moment, pull away. You grin at him though he’s probably annoyed with the loss of warmth.

“Caught you,” you say with a grin. Dave growls deep in his throat like he always does when he’s irritated.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, then pushes you back and resumes the kiss.


End file.
